


River, Pond; Melody, Song

by Villinye (AslansCompass)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1222276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AslansCompass/pseuds/Villinye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In fifteen minutes, at midnight on the thirteenth of Delution, the Guabancexian Parliament will execute the infamous criminal River Song. The Guabancexian Parliament believes that I am River Song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Identity

  
In fifteen minutes, at midnight on the thirteenth of Delution, the Guabancexian Parliament will execute the infamous criminal River Song.  
  
The Guabancexian Parliament believes that I am River Song.  
  
I place my hand above my left breast to feel the heart beating fast enough to power a spaceship. But there's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I am in a cage of glass, less than a meter wide and two tall. Just enough room for me and my executioner.  
  
Someone strides by without looking in my direction. It's her; I know that sheepskin jacket, khaki pants and unraveling hair as well as my own face. She walks like a queen leading a procession of her vanquished enemies, not a prisoner on her way to execution. River Song: part Time Lord, part human, and entirely unpredictable. Does she look at me? No, she wouldn't notice a stranger in a grey smock, even one with an uncanny resemblance to her.  
  
"We weren't prepared for two of you," the executioner notes. "But we can't risk leaving River Song alive, whether she's a clone, an android or the original."  
  
I force myself to look into her face. Her straight brown hair is styled unimpressively, leaving streaks of grey visible, and her clothing was obviously chosen for no-nonsense comfort.  
  
Clear liquid fills the syringe. "I suppose I should ask if you have any last words." She looks up into my eyes.  
  
What could I say? Someone else had made River the way she was, before I was caught in this trap. Someone took a sample of  _her_  three-stranded DNA and turned into  _our_  three-stranded DNA and then  _my_ three-stranded DNA. The first thing I remember that  _we_  don't remember is Madame Kovarian telling me to hunt down myself, the weapon that turned on its wielder.  
  
I met the woman's gaze. Her brown eyes are soft, compassionate even. Like the mother I and we don't remember. She doesn't believe we're monsters. And I see a way out.  
  
I lunge out of her reach, pressing down the intercom button on her wrist. "I am Melody Pond. I hate apples unless they have faces on them. My favorite color is deep blue, like old paint wood"  _like the TARDIS that always comes when it's needed_ "I love bowties. I hate the word 'impossible.' I can't sing."  
  
She tries to pull away, but not as hard as she could.  
  
Sobs threaten to overwhelm me. "I've never met my mother. I never had a cold." The memories are mixing now,  _ours_  and  _mine_  together. "I like cats because they have nine lives. I've visited twelve planets, two asteroids, and five space vessels. As a child, I was never afraid,"  _I_  was never a child. "As a child, I was always afraid."  _We_  were.  
  
I slump to the floor, unable to say anything more. The syringe hovers above the crock of my arm.  
  
She drops it, letting it roll under her foot to be crushed. "You aren't a monster, Melody."  
  
The intercom crackles to life. "What are you doing, Aoede?"  
  
"She's a child, Ramero. Just because she looks like a murderer doesn't mean she is one." Aoede nods at me. "How old are you, Melody?"  
  
Does she mean  _us_  or  _me_?"  
  
"You, not River."  
  
"One year old." One year of spinning through time, commandeering crumbling spaceships, paying too much for stale information. One wonderful year.  
  
"Aode, this is irrel–"  
  
"This execution is delayed until such time as the evidence can be examined by the full council. You are dismissed, Ramero." Aoede states. "Why did you say those things, Melody? If those were your last words, why didn't you curse or beg?"  
  
"I was pleading. I wanted you to know that I'm a person. Not a photocopy." I glance down at River, wondering if the same rhythm of fear beats in her chest.  
  
The communicator flashes. "They want me to bear witness to the execution. I'd refuse, but it would put your case on unstable ground. Here–" She pulls another communicator from her pocket. "Press the button with the circumscribed circle if you want to reach me. I'd take you with me, but you'll be much safer here."  
  
Fear presses against my chest. "Stay, please…stay."  
  
"You'll be safe here, I swear." Aoede squeezes my hand before the door swings open to let her out.  
  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
I cannot concentrate on the preliminaries, not the escorting of Parliament members to the executioner's platform or the political speeches. A children's clown attracts my attention momentarily, for he bears the plastic-smooth features of a drone. Another manufactured human with a purpose, though a prenatal lobotomy removed any chance of revolution from him. Does he have a favorite color? Remember his childhood? Dream of having a pet?  
  
The listing of River's crimes continues, with graphic representations of her charges displayed on holograms. Some of the planets are more or less correct. Clom, for example, and Woman Wept. But they don't include the quiet ones, the beautiful ones that I found while chasing her, the ones where  _I_  splintered from  _we._  
  
L'angel, where I cradled a newborn binary star in my hands.  
  
Florana, where the seas were smooth as warm milk.  
  
Iza Septimus, where waters ranged from finger-high to higher than Everest.  
  
"For these crimes, and many more, we sentence Doctor River Song to vaporization." The air rippled with anticipation.  
  
 **That's him coming for me now.**  
  
My muscles relax before I remember it's  _her_  thought, one of the thoughts I keep trying to banish. The pronoun needs no antecedent, no proper name to clarify its meaning. 'Him' means the man we have been training to fight since birth, the greatest foe of all free peoples. The Doctor is coming for River Song; the Warrior is claiming his battle hymn.  
  
She twists, nearly too quick to see how, and one cuff is loose. Soldiers, advisors, governors, guards and drones crowd the platform–there's still no way she can escape.  
  
Even though I can't hear the TARDIS materialize, I can feel it. Our third strand hums with its melody, the nearly inaudible whisper like a cat's purring. Level with the stage, one door swings open. "Jump! " he screams. "I'll catch you."  
  
Ignoring the two-meter drop onto jagged rocks–a Guabancexian precaution against escapees–River leaps from the edge. From my angle, I can't see the inside–the glass floor and stairs, the motor sliding up and down, but no body falls to the rocks. The TARDIS revolves, dissolving into nothing.  
  
Silence is broken by a hundred shouts. Anger, confusion, bewilderment, laughter, all break beneath the weight of terror. They had planned to execute River Song, and she is suddenly gone. She could be anywhere in the universe, any galaxy, any solar system, any planet, any time.  
  
A young boy, no more than eight, turns around, staring wildly. Our eyes meet.  
  
"She's still here! Come on, she's still here."  
  
A woman nearby lifts her head–the boy's mother? "That's her. It's River Song." The cry is carried from her tongue to a neighbor's ears.  
  
"River Song!"  
  
"River Song!"  
  
"She's still here!"  
  
"We can still execute justice!"  
  
I press the communicator's button. "Aoede! Aoede, they're going to kill me! Help!"  
  
The mob surges towards my cell. I see individual faces–a wrinkled grandmother, a robotic technician still holding a programming unit, a bald teenage boy with a sonic baton, a mother and twin girls with laser pistols, even a visiting Graske.  
  
"Melody?"  
  
"Aoede, they're going to kill me!"  
  
"Are the guards still there?"  
  
"They joined the mob," I force my voice to remain even. "And the controls are on the outside, aren't they?"  
  
"Yes. But Melody-"  
  
Maybe her communicator cut out. "Are you still there? Please, tell me you're still there!"  
  
"Melody…I'm sorry."  
  
Every limb of my body throbs, protesting the implications. "No. I can't–I'm not River Song! I'm not River Song!"  
  
"I know you are not River Song. And I will remember that, whatever happens."  
  
I tear off the communicator, hurl it to the floor, and stomp on it. What good will it do Aoede to remember me when I am dead? Words buzz through my head  _river song melody pond the forest's water river pond melody song…._  
  
The TARDIS. I am hearing the TARDIS. Its hum still fills my mind. I whirl around, trying to see it. A hint of blue hangs in one corner, a translucent curtain moment I see the glass walls, the next blue panels, but always the blue is stronger. He's going to crash the TARDIS into my cell. I squeeze into the far corner and cover my head with my arms.  
  
Glass ripples like snowflake crystals cascading to the floor. The door swings towards me, held open by a young man in a tweed jacket, suspenders, and a bowtie. The Doctor: our heart sees the words in shining gold against the stars of the Medusa Cascade. The Doctor: my mind trembles as he extends a hand. "Hello, I'm the Doctor."  
  
"Yes," I manage to reply.  
  
"I don't suppose those people rushing towards you are some sort of fan club."  
  
I shake my head.  
  
"Then it would probably be a very good thing if you were not here right now. Fancy a lift?" The TARDIS shakes. "River, what are you doing to my ship?" he calls over his shoulder.  
  
"You said I learn to fly it."  
  
"Not today!" He turns back to me. "Are you coming?"  
  
I can feel the rhythm of the TARDIS like a song in the back of my mind.  
  
"Trust me. I'm the Doctor."  
  
I grab his hand. The TARDIS shakes again, beginning the dematerialization process. We tumble backwards onto the floor, nearly landing on top of each other. I stagger to my feet, walking up to the console. Its hum calls me like a magnet seeking north.  
  
He bounds to his feet, rushing around the panels flipping switches, pressing buttons, and pulling levers. She steps back, watching with a smug smile.  
  
"There we are then. Back into the vortex, and just in time too. I'll have you know the TARDIS isn't a bulldozer or hovercraft, she wasn't built for that. Well, River," his eyes flicker between us. Handcuffs still dangle from one of her wrists, an odd accessory to the wool vest and khaki pants, while my unremarkable grey smock nearly slides off one shoulder. "I always knew you were trouble, but two of you….What have I gotten myself into this time?"  
  
I press my hands against my breastbone, feeling the rhythm of two hearts trying to break through my skin.


	2. They Call Me River Song

"That was my fault, really. I dropped the Ibonian crystal at the wrong moment-"  
  
He presses his finger against her lips. "No. Do you know who this is?"  
  
"I don't know! Just because she could pass for my reflection doesn't mean I have the faintest idea who she is." She turns to me. "Who are you, exactly?"  
  
"They call me River Song."  
  
"Yes, but who are you?"  
  
"Melody Pond."  
  
"That's my name. " Her face twists like a child smelling something nasty.  
  
"And it's mine too. I can hear the TARDIS singing our name  _river song melody pond my child_." She narrows her eyes; he glances in my direction. But I don't have time for this. I reach inside his jacket, pull out the stethoscope I knew I would I find, and press the diaphragm to my right heart. "Listen."  
  
He nestles the buds in his ears as I slowly move it across my chest. After an infinite minute, he took out the buds. "River, listen."  
  
She shakes her head, but he's already pressing it into her ears. I slid the cup across my chest again. Does she recognize the beat, the slightly stronger left heart and the whispering right? Finally, she yanks out the headset and tosses it to me. "Did Madame Kovarian send you?"  
  
 _Her_  words slip out of my mouth. "Do you think it's that simple?"  
  
"Did she send you or didn't she?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Don't get smart with me! "  
  
"Right then, ladies, I think that it's time for that flying lesson, River, and you–" He glances in my direction.  
  
"Melody will do."  
  
"Melody, why don't you go find something else to wear? The wardrobe is the third door on the right after you take two lefts, but don't include–"  
  
My lips curve into a smirk. "I know where it is."  
  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The wardrobe is an enchanted forest, with shirts, dresses, vests, skirts, pants, robes, capes, cloaks, and costumes of wool, velvet, aluminum, cotton, polyester, furs, plaids and more. I automatically pull down a vest and jodhpur, but rehang them once I realize what I'm holding. We are more than twins–the least I can do to distinguish myself is choose a different outfit.  
  
I find a blue skirt with orange and red strips around the bottom, culminating in two frenzied rows of knots and twists that might be called Celtic on Earth, but could be anything here. A simple azure top matches nicely. To complete the outfit, I yank out a pair of hiking boots. I've never had a chance to leisurely choose clothes before–all my previous 'shopping' excursions involved guns, robots, or beasts. Sometimes all three.  
  
"Whenever you're done…er…Melody," His voice drifts into the room like a lost snowflake. "Come down to the art gallery. Try to get this mess sorted out."  
  
I am about to ask for directions when her memories return. "I'm ready now." Expecting to find the rambling hallway, I nearly trip over his lanky legs. "Excuse me…I'm sorry."  
  
"Did you just say 'Sorry?'"  
  
I nod.  
  
"River never says sorry." He bounces like a rubber band ball. "So why do you?"  
  
"It's a long story, and I'd rather not tell it twice." I brush past him. "How exactly did you know to find me, Doctor?"  
  
"Quite simple really, I was passing through on my way to the Morpheusian Cluster when a sub particle explosion signaled disturbance in the sigma radiation so I thought I'd come take a look. And I opened the doors and there was River about to have something very nasty done to her. I knew I'd never hear the end of it from her parents if I let their only child be tortured so I just pulled the TARDIS alongside the platform…"  
  
I press my finger over his lips. "She told me you were a babbler."  
  
"Madame Kovarian?" The words slip out.  
  
"No," I wink as we enter the gallery. "River."  
  
River is already there, staring at a section of the Bayeux Tapestry near the Aphrodite of Cnidus. In the far corner, I see Michelangelo's cupid beside Ruben's gory portrait of Judith Beheading Holofernes.  
  
"So, River, Melody, what's this all about?" The Doctor sits on a oak bench, fiddling with a Fabergé Easter egg from the Romanov dynasty  
  
"I don't know, ask her!" River waves her arms. "This wasn't my idea."  
  
"And I didn't exactly ask to be a genetic duplicate of the most feared woman in thirty-two galaxies, five solar systems, and eight timestreams!"  
  
"River asked if Madame Kovarian sent you. You said yes. And then you said no. What do you mean?"  
  
"Isn't this spoilers for something?" River glares at him. "That's what you say, all the time when you don't want to answer me. "  
  
"I haven't met her yet, I don't know how it plays out. I don't think she does either."  
  
"Excuse me, but 'she' is right here. And her name is Melody."  
  
"If it's not spoilers, get on with it." River turns back to the tapestry. "I have things to do."  
  
"After your regeneration, Madame Kovarian lost track of you. She sent out as many men as she could, but the trail was cold. She followed rumors, ancient legends–anything that might have been a child weapon on the run. Then you met the Doctor for the first time." I take a deep breath, reminding myself to say 'you,' not 'I' or 'me.' This is her part of the story. "Kovarian rushed to the sight as soon as she could, but it was too late. Both of you were already gone. But on the floor, she found a tangled clump of curly hair."  
  
River twists a curl around her forefinger.  
  
"She extracted the DNA from that hair and made me. The methods she used kept your memories intact–she wanted it that way, said it would help me track you down."  
  
"So she did send you!" River's voice makes me shrink back.  
  
"River, let her finish," The Doctor warns.  
  
"She told me my job was to take down two mighty warriors–the Doctor, and River. Then she gave me a vortex manipulator and shoved me off." My head had still been spinning, trying to accustom itself to a new body, like waking from one dream into another.  
  
"How long ago was that?"  
  
"One year." So strange to have the same question twice in one day. "I kept traveling, trying to find you, but the Guabancexians caught me first. They'd caught River earlier, but my appearance confused them. So they thought they'd play it safe and kill me too."  
  
"Are you going to try to kill me now?" The Doctor asks off-handedly. "Because if you are, I should warn you that the TARDIS is in a state of temporal grace that disables weapons."  
  
"If I wanted to kill you, would I have told you that?"  
  
"I don't know, people do strange things sometimes."  
  
I smirk at him. "You don't have a clue what you've gotten yourself into. This little pond is deeper than you think."


	3. History's Edges

 

  
  
A noise echoes down the corridor. “Ah, that would be the phone. I’ll leave you ladies to talk, get things sorted out.” The Doctor practically leaps from the bench and runs out of the room.   
  
I turn to a display of 12th —century illuminated manuscripts, but River grabs my left arm and twists it behind my back. “So maybe it wasn’t your idea to be my clone, but I swear I will never let you take my place. You do anything–you look at him the wrong way–and you will pay.”  
  
“That’s rich coming from you–the woman who kills him.”  
  
She presses in closer. “Yes, I tried to kill him. Four times–or was it five–in as many minutes? And I could kill you just as casually. The first place we stop, I want you to leave and never come back.”  
  
“What for? To be chased by your enemies till I die of old age? Which would be quite an achievement, since I still have all my regenerations.”  
  
She slaps my cheek. “Just so we understand each other.”  
  
“Let’s see…I do anything you would normally do, and you kill me. That makes perfect sense.” I slip out of her grasp and strode towards the door.  
  
This time the door opens into a medium-sized room with walls like bubble wrap. A few skimpy leather outfits are in a heap on the floor, with a knife atop a simple wood cot. The clothing’s not my type, but whoever used this room before was a warrior. “I wonder whose room this was,” I ask myself. But I’m not interested in some old room now.  
  
I open another door on the far side, stepping into fields of red grain under twin suns. Gallifrey? But Gallifrey was gone, lost in the War. I know it in the same way I recognize the Doctor and River, a sub-level psychic echo in my second heart. Yet that same echo tells me that I belong here, that this is home. Home? I was born in a batch of goo, a fully grown twin sent out to fight a war I never asked to join.  
  
I kick off my boots and let my toes burrow into the soil. A bird flutters past, wings the same color as the wheat. The Gamma Forest has a legend that birds are memories that have slipped out of our heads through our dreams. What memory might have fledged this offspring? None of mine. I’d more likely be surrounded by a gang of angry crows forever mobbing one small wren.  
  
Not _all_ legends are true.  
  
But enough of them are. The Pantheon of Discord, the Cult of Skaro, the Oncoming Storm.  
  
The natives of L’angel are sentient nebulas. When they give birth, the star is small enough to hold, warm to the touch. Only as it grows does it burn the blackness that birthed it. The planet itself cannot even retain an atmosphere, but the view from its surface is one of the five hundred wonders of the galaxy.  
  
I, as River and as Melody, have visited 187 of them. But they all had two things in common: legends and loneliness. Some were at the center of a sprawling tourist backlog, others in a distant galaxy. But each time, the story and the sight only made me cry because there was no one to share it with, no one to turn to and say “Isn’t it beautiful?”  
  
Maybe that’s why the Doctor takes companions. I haven’t had time to study him, but between River’s memories and common gossip, I know the Doctor rarely travels alone. He’s traveled with robots, other aliens and humans: mostly humans, including our parents. I also heard that he once traveled with a fellow Gallifreyan, but those stories are the most confused, calling her Jenny or Susan or Romana, unclear whether she was daughter, granddaughter, or lover.  
  
I am not Gallifreyan–no, I was not born there nor were my parents. But I am the child of the TARDIS. Conceived to human parents in the Time Vortex, I am something new.  
  
 _She_ is. The thought tightens like River’s hands on my arm. I am the clone, the living copy of the original. Any life I try to find will be overshadowed by her reputation.  
\----------------  
“River? Er–Melody, Melody Pond.”  
  
I whirl around, frantically groping for a weapon. I had one in my clothes–where is it?–bloody new outfit!  
  
“Well, that was certainly entertaining.” He stands in the doorway, sporting a black knit cap with a cheerful red pompom and a red and white checkered band. “At least you didn’t try to disintegrate my hat like River did.”  
“What is that?”  
  
“It’s a balmoral, also known as a tam o’shanter, a traditional Scottish hat. Thankfully, I had swapped her gun for a banana. Do you like banannas? They’re quite good, unlike apples. Or pears. Pears are disgusting.”  
  
“Did you come in just to show off your hat?” I straighten my skirt and tug down the shirt.  
  
“Not exactly. That phone call was from an old friend of mine, Liz Ten. Someone’s been advertising a neo-masque on Starship UK. After all that trouble with the star whale, the last thing she wants is a game of secrets. Wondered if I could help her check into it.”  
  
“What’s a masque?”  
  
“Oh, it’s great fun, you’ll love it. Lots of people dressing up as other people, lots of disguises and dancing. I’m not too bad at the dancing, really–don’t believe what you’re heard, they loved me at Versailles.”  
  
“You mean I’m going along? I thought you’d take River.”  
  
“I am.”  
  
“You mean you’re taking both of us?”  
  
“Yes, what’s wrong with that? You two have a lot in common, you should enjoy it. “  
  
I thought River’s memories had overestimated his romantic ignorance, not understated. “Well, I should find something else to wear.” I walk through the door, taking one last look at the scene. “By the way, what is this?”'  
“Never been in, not for a long time. Too busy, too much to do.” He slams the door.  
  
---


	4. Masquerade

t

  
  
Petticoats ripple around my legs like waves trying to escape the hoopskirt. Wet-pebble shoes peep out underneath as I walk to the engine room. The weight enforces slowness on me, a welcome break from a life spent running. A scarf of sapphire silk cover all of my face but my eyes.  
  
The Doctor glances up from the console, brushing his long, white dress shirt off a dial. Another bowtie compliments his dark pants. "Well, what a beautiful waterfall, Melody Pond." His eyes blink through aviator goggles.  
  
"Aren't you going to dress up?"  
  
"This is my costume, can't you tell?"  
  
"What, are you going as yourself?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, that would be absurd." He grabs a black trench coat off the railing and spreads his arms. "Behold, the penguin!"  
  
"You look absolutely ridiculous," River announces as she comes in. From lips to eyebrows, her face is hidden behind a feline mask, with cat ears poking through her tangled hair. A twitching tail attached to a black jumpsuit completes her costume.  
  
"Oh, shut up. Didn't know the wardrobe had a cat costume, though," he comments.  
  
"And what are you supposed to be, some Victorian childf? It's…cute," she sniffs. "Really cute."  
  
I let one of her responses snap out. "And you make a wonderful animal."  
  
"Remember our deal."  
  
I turn away, enjoying the swish of my skirt on the glass floor. "Doctor, if you would open the door for me? My skirt is getting in the way."  
  
"Ah. Right." The Doctor scrambles over the stair railing and runs to open the door. "Here we are then; welcome to the masquerade, milady."  
  
"Doctor, you are going to take off those ridiculous goggles, aren't you?" River crosses her arm. "I refuse to be seen with a raccoon."  
  
"No, no, not a raccoon–a penguin." He pulls the goggles down. "And if you don't want to come, that's fine with me. Melody can help me."  
  
River mutters something under her breath, but I can guess what she's thinking. What help will she be?  
  
He pushes the doors open. "May I have the pleasure of escorting you to the ball?"  
  
"Why certainly, sir."  
  
He loops his elbow through mine. "Onwards, then. Are you coming, River?"  
  
"A gentlemen should never leave a lady waiting." She steps up and takes his other arm. "I accept your offer of an escort."  
  
The three of us step out of the TARDIS into the ballroom. The Doctor breaks free of River to snap his fingers at the TARDIS, which closes the doors instantly. "Remote control, only without the remote! Isn't that cool?"  
  
"Wonderful, Sweetie." River sighs. "Now, what were we here for?"  
  
Madame Kovarian filled our memory with millenniums of Earth history, emphasizing the Doctor's interest in the planet. But knowing about the Byzantium Empire or Bowie Base 1 isn't the same as seeing it, and nothing in the word 'masquerade' prepared me for the garden of fabrics, jewels, and colors.  
  
"Liz Ten was having some problems–well, not actually problems, not yet, more like concerns, worries, possible pickles."  
  
"And what are you supposed to do about it?"  
  
"Just poke around and see what comes out. Go and wander off and get trapped and then we'll know exactly what we're up against. At least, that's what normally happens," he admits.  
  
River crosses her arms. "That's your great plan?"  
  
"Plan? Who said anything about plans? Plans are boring. What we have here is an adventure."  
  
"Excuse me," a gentleman in a 17th-century frock and breeches taps me on the shoulders. "Since your friends are otherwise occupied, might I request you for the next dance?"  
  
"Friends?" I glance at River, resolute as an iron statue.  
  
"Well, one does not wish to presume at a social function. Are any of you married, by chance?"  
  
"Married!" The Doctor gasped. "No, most certainly not married."  
  
"My apologies, Mr…"  
  
"Oh, call me the Doctor, just the Doctor. "  
  
"Doctor, do you mind if I have a dance with your friend?"  
  
"Why don't we let Melody decide that? What do you think, Melody?"  
  
"I don't know how to dance," I whisper.  
  
"It's easy–I'll show you." He bends his knees like he's going to sit down, swaying back and forth. He runs forward seven steps, thrusts his head forward, wiggles it back and forth and folds his hands into fists, rotating them in circles.  
  
The gentleman steps back.  
  
The Doctor ignores him, making a sweeping gesture from the ceiling to the floor and back again. After pointing at the ceiling a few times, he spins around, bows to me and adjusts his bowtie. "That's how you dance, Miss Melody Pond."  
  
"I've had enough of this," River huffs. "While you children play, I'm going to get some serious work done." She disappears between a duchess and a playing card, tail twitching. The gentleman has also disappeared into the crowd.  
  
"I guess that leaves the two of us," The Doctor grins. "So, how about that dance?"  
  
"I think I'd rather watch, if you don't mind." Everyone moves so quickly and gracefully, knowing their role in making order from chaos. One woman brushes by in a slender blue dress, olive mantle, and elaborate train printed with sapphire and aqua blotches ringed in copper ovals shading to olive. Our eyes met for a moment before the dance sweeps her away.  
  
I edge forward, trying to follow her, but dancers stream around me. Like a leaf on the tide, I cannot resist the motion. They break into partners; I face someone clad in green from head to toe. Only brown eyes move behind his mask. "I do not believe we've met before," he says. "Where are you from?"  
  
The question, as much as the rhythm, confuses me.  
  
"Have you ever danced before?"  
  
"No, I'm afraid not." I miscount the steps forward; my heel lands on his toes. "I'm sorry, really I am."  
  
"It was nothing."  
  
I blush behind the scarf. Step, step, twirl. Step, step, twirl.  
  
"You obviously have had some training."  
  
"Not in dancing."  
  
"No, but you move with purpose. Just watch the way I move, and match your steps to mine."  
  
Like unarmed combat. Except I'm not trying to kill him. "I'll try."  
  
The tempo speeds up, triumphant and eager. Side, side, back, back. Twirl, bow. Backwards, then repeat. Music whispers the rhythm to my trembling limbs.  
  
The notes die away. My partner bows. "Thank you for the honor."  
  
"And thank you for the help."  
  
The next round is faster, a whirling storm of spins, lines, partners, trios. The world spins like a kaleidoscope.  
---  
  
 

 


	5. Primary Objective

 

  
  
"Another dance?"  
  
"Thanks, but I'm thirsty." I step off the floor and make my way to the refreshment table.  
  
"Punch?" A man dressed as a floppy-eared spaniel offers me a goblet. Probably it isn't _just_ punch, or he wouldn't be winking at me quite so hard.  
  
"Come on, just one drink. Live a little, girl."  
  
"MELODY!" The yell bounces off the walls. "Melody! I poked something with a stick, and it poked back!"  
  
That can only be one person. And what does he always say about wandering off? Doctors always make the worst patients. I return to the floor, using gaps in the flow and twists in the rhythm to slip through the crowd.  
  
"OW! Ow! Get away, you nasty little beast!" Hisses and screeches follow his announcement, leading me to a scarlet set of drapes near a trio of potted elephant's ear ferns. One good tug should open the curtain and show me what sort of trouble he's in now. _That man can't do anything without getting in trouble._  
  
I'm thinking like _her_ again. Just because I was grown in a vat to replace a psychopathic is no reason to be rude. I grab a fold and yank. It refuses to budge.  
  
"Is that you?–oww–move the ferns."  
  
I shove them out of the way, ignoring the piles of dirt that spill over the edge. The fabric billows to the side, letting me through. "Doctor, what's wrong?"  
  
"I'm being attacked! Isn't it obvious?"  
  
 _Grey humanoid shape, feline._  
  
1.69 to 1.88 meters, roughly 60 kg.  
  
Lean but muscular.  
  
Weapons: one dual-bladed dagger, claws, teeth.  
  
Primary objective: Neutralize threat.  
  
Secondary objective: Determine the nature of the dispute.  
  
All of which flashes through my mind in a human heartbeat. One sharp kick sends the knife spinning into the corner, and another blow disorients him.  
  
That's the plan, at least. Something restricts the kick, resulting in a feeble tap that would barely bounce a ball. A second attempt is even weaker.  
  
 _Skirt!_ I curse, shoving the anger into a punch.  
  
"Melody! Watch who you're punching!" He yelps.  
  
 _Tertiary objective : Avoid harming the Doctor._  
  
Blow to the jaw. Grab the knife. Blow to the back of the knee.  
  
The person crumples to the ground. Primary objective completed. A three minute hold on the neck produces unconscious, with death to follow. His pulse slows, barely tangible under the short-cropped fur. Slower…slower…  
  
"Melody!" He grabs my hands. "What were you doing?"  
  
 _Pull away, pressing harder at the vein. Almost complete._  
  
"Melody Pond!" His voice, barely a whisper, is a hot knife to my butter.Hands. My hands, squeezing the life from a stranger's neck.  
  
 **No. No-no-no-I-am-not-a-weapon.**  
  
He scans the limp body. "He'll be fine. Wake up in a few hours with a neck cramp, but nothing worse. Still not sure who he was working for. No cat people on Starship UK, so he must have been hired by someone. Someone with money. Now, who would have money and contacts to do that? Liz Ten, maybe, but we're friends, or at least we were last time I checked."  
  
"Pond." It's the cat. He shouldn't even be able to speak.  
  
How can he know my name?  
  
"Pond," he wheezes again. "Nice pond."  
  
The folds of my dress ripple with illusionary liquid.  
  
"She didn't kill you. You'll be fine. " The Doctor kneels down by him. "Now, who hired you?"  
  
"Didn't use…name. Just promised money." The grey ears twitch.  
  
"People will pay for anything, won't they? Well, next time, I recommend you think twice before taking a hit on me." He stands up. "Come on, Melody."  
  
I almost killed him. If the Doctor hadn't stopped me, I'd have killed him.  
  
"Melody?"  
  
Nice pond? If you knew…  
  
"Melody?" He kneels, holding my face in his hands. "Melody, what's wrong?"  
  
"I killed him."  
  
"You didn't."  
  
"I would have. If you hadn't stopped me, I would have. If you weren't here–"  
  
"River–Melody," he stumbles over himself. "–don't say that. It doesn't help anyone. "  
  
He's right. We have to focus on the mission. I stand up, nearly tripping over my skirts again. "What's our next step?"  
  
"Well, I was supposed to be meeting with an old friend. Just ended up in the wrong alcove. It must have been LP-23, not PL-32. That little incident put me," he glances at his wrist. "Forty-two minutes behind schedule. Come along, Pond, you can help me explain."  
  
"Explain what?"  
  
"Why I'm late. Pay attention, you might learn something." He ducks out of the alcove, adjusting his bow tie and jacket. I trail after him, trying to adjust my skirt so the rips don't show. There are three on the hem, two by my right knee… By the time I complete the tally, we've reached another curtained alcove. LP-23.  
  
He pulls the curtain back. "Ah! Liz Ten, I presume. As lovely as ever."  
  
"So, you made it." Her cocoa skin compliments the red velvet of her cloak, a color so rich and inviting I reach out to touch it before stopping myself. "And who's your friend? I was expecting to see Amy."  
  
"You know my mother?"  
  
"Your mother?" She looks at me, then the Doctor, then back at me.  
  
My cheeks flush red. "It's not important now. I'm Melody Pond, a pleasure to meet you."  
  
"Any friend of the Doctor is a friend of mine. So, Doctor, what have you discovered?"  
  
"Not much, had some problems, got a bit sidetracked."  
  
"What sort of problems?"  
  
"Someone tried to kill me. Which is odd, actually. Not odd that they'd try to kill me, people do that all the time. Odd that they knew I was here. I only just decided to come when I got your message. So why would they have an assassin waiting for me here? Who knew I was coming?"  
  
"No one." Liz replied quickly.  
  
"That makes things complicated. Much, much more complicated."  
---  
  
 


	6. Looking for Trouble

  
She stares at him for a moment. "Do you have enemies?"  
  
"Do I have enemies?" He coughs. "Every man has enemies. Means I stood up for something."  
  
They lean in closer, talking quickly and quietly, voices too low for me to catch more than a few words. I adjust my skirt, wondering if he has needles and thread on the TARDIS. I'm more experienced stitching up my own wounds than fabric, but this dress is so pretty it would be a shame to leave it like this.  
  
"…that reminds me, have you seen my friend River Song? Blond hair, poofy," he motions with his hands. "dressed as a black cat."  
  
Liz glances in my direction, and I slide backwards.  
  
"No, that's Melody Pond. But River looks exactly like her."  
  
"Twins?" Liz raises an eyebrow. "How did you manage that, Doctor?"  
  
"It's a long, complicated story. First there was a little girl with a crack in her wall, then a plastic centurion, and a ganger, and a nasty woman with an eye patch–"  
  
She holds up her hands. "I suppose I don't need to know. But I haven't seen anyone except you and Melody this evening. I told you, I'm trying to stay out of the way. If this is a plot against me, the surest way to get people to clam up is to show up in person."  
  
"Right. I'll get back to you if I find out anything. By the way, my feline assassin is in one of the alcoves, might want to keep an eye on that. Come along, Pond." He grabs my hand and starts running.  
  
"Where are we going now?" I pant.  
  
"Since we didn't find anything, the most logical step is to check with the other half of our team. River must have found something–well, something besides trouble," he amends. "She's excellent at finding that."  
  
Considering that I've been blamed for a high percentage of her shenanigans, I heartily agree.  
  
"So, let's look for trouble and we'll probably find her."  
  
"Remember how well that worked last time?" I roll my eyes.  
  
"I'm alive, you're alive, even my assassin's alive–I'd say we came out ahead. I'll scan for her life signs, should give us a general idea where to start the search." He waves the screwdriver, checks the readings, glances at me, then back at the readings. "Melody, could you back off a bit? The sonic keeps detecting you instead of River."  
  
I step backwards, examining a ruffle of lace on my sleeve. Even the sonic has problems telling us apart–not exactly support for attempts at establishing a separate identity. The Doctor checks the readings again. "No, no, that's not going to work–ah! Melody, come over here. I need you."  
  
"I thought I was messing it up."  
  
"Use setting 25b to take a DNA reading, then setting 1961 to find matching life signs in the area."  
  
I adjust the settings. "Have you ever used that before?"  
  
"Yes, once or twice."  
  
"But don't you need to have a sample of the DNA to match it? What good is that?"  
  
"Oh, I don't need a fresh sample every time. It just so happened that since you were using the screwdriver, it did not return your presence as a search result." He grabbed the sonic from my hand. "And according to this, River should be in that direction!"  
  
  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
I must have taken a wrong turn, because I can't see the Doctor anyway. I can't even hear the orchestra. He really should try leaving a map or something next time, instead of just expecting me to be able to keep up with him. Most of the time I only have my only skin to save, not someone else's. Of course, wandering on my own was how I ended up in a glass box awaiting death. And without his intervention, I'd be dead. Or at least on a second regeneration. Goodness knows how the Council would have responded to regeneration. Killed me again, probably.  
  
I never noticed how much I ramble until there's no one chasing me. I pause for a moment and close my eyes, trying to figure out my location. We materialized into the heart of Starship UK, so there was no chance to analyze the structure from the outside. The fact it's named after a country means it's probably capable of carrying an entire nation. A vessel that size would be designed for stability and long-term living, not speed, but the shape would depend on the source of power.  
  
All this information synthesizes through my brain in seconds, but does not leave me any wiser for a course of action. I might as well fall back on the old saw of wandering around until something happens.  
  
I really should know better than to think something like that.  
  
As I round a corner, I find three men in black hooded cloaks dragging a woman along behind them. She kicks, screams, wiggles, but their hold is too strong. I sink to the floor, huddling behind a support beam.  
  
"Do you know what you're doing? You'll regret this–you really will!" The words were punctuated with grunts and punches.  
  
"Do not struggle, it will only make things worse."  
  
"If I had a speck of dust for every time I heard that, I'd have my own planet by now," she swore.  
  
River. They have River. My legs start to jiggle underneath my skirt, a quirk showing my irrational fear. My eyes squeeze shut.  
  
"Stop. Someone else is here." A terrible grinding noise fills the air, followed by footsteps. I open my eyes to a dark, hooded figure looming over me. The eyes gleam red for a moment, or is that merely my imagination?  
  
"It seems we have another one." He reaches toward me.  
  
I spring to my feet, holding my skirt in my hands, and run.  
  
---


	7. All's Fair

  
  
**Plan: Run.**  
  
As far as plans go, it's rough. But details only make things complicated and require refining when things don't work out. Simple plans are best, that's what I say.  
  
Who am I kidding? The only reason that's worked so far is that most of my enemies are too frightened by my reputation to stand and face me. The ones that aren't….  
  
 **Plan (revised)**  
  
Run.  
  
Find the Doctor.  
  
Madame Kovarian's stories crowd my mind, pounding _badmanenemycannottrust_ but I push it away. He came for me, I tell myself, focusing my attention on those four words and not the six that follow, ignoring the voice that says _only because River was there too._  
  
The skirt catches on a steel beam. Rip it off, keep running in a white petticoat and undershirt, because even though it was beautiful, the first beautiful thing I've worn– _they are going to catch me unless I run faster._  
  
The strands of the orchestra float down the hallways to my ears. I'm running the right way, I must be, this is where I lost him. But lost minus unlost doesn't equal found, not this time. I dash across the dance floor–empty now–and my pursuer's steps resound like thunder on the smooth floor. "Doctor! Doctor!"  
  
Why I am I screaming? Should save the breath for running.  
  
The footsteps are getting closer. I can't get away. Pressure on the back of my neck–blackness.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------  
"I'm telling you, you'd better let me go or you'll regret it. I'm River Song, doesn't that mean anything to you?"  
  
"Means a whole heap of cash."  
  
 _Better plan. Next time, a better plan._ I'm strapped into a metal chair, with straps holding down my wrists, ankles, and knees.  
  
"You need a better dictionary, then."  
  
River. Still arguing, as usual. This isn't the first time we've been trussed up side by side. Not even the first time today. Light shines on my eyes. "This one's awake."  
  
Time for the old which-one's-real routine. I force myself to open my eyes. "I don't suppose you could just let me go. You obviously had what you wanted before I showed up."  
  
"Oh, so you think we'll just let you go?" A black-hooded figure bends over me, obscuring sheet metal walls. "You obviously have no idea how the world works, my dear. It's not that simple at all. The simple thing for us to do would be to deliver you both to our client. Unfortunately, we only have enough supplies to bring one of you alive. So which one shall it be?"  
  
Sleep. Sounds nice, I could use some.  
  
 **No.**  
  
Stupid River-thought. Decent reminder, but stupid all the same. A clever thought would tell me how to escape. "I'm River Song."  
  
"Yeah, that's the problem. So, we're going to try a little persuasion." The man leans in so closely I could bite off his tongue. A grinding sound, like the gears of a clock, echoes in place of his pulse. He twists his head…farther…farther…  
  
No. No, it can't be.  
  
A plastic face with glowing red eyeballs stares back at me. A cyborg; I've met cyborgs before, but they just had mechanical arms or eyes, not whole faces on the back of their head. My legs start to jiggle again, but it just shakes the chair.  
  
River sighs. "If you're going to kill us, how about a last request?" She winks at the cyborg. "Just a little kiss, then? I haven't snogged a cyborg before, might be interesting."  
  
The cyborg glances at the other two men whose faces remain hidden in under their hoods. One nods.  
  
"Might we have a little privacy, please?"  
  
"It's a kiss." The cyborg steps closer to her. "Why would we need privacy?"  
  
"Well…I was planning something special." River glances at the floor. "But I suppose you're right. I couldn't do anything with her looking at me. I mean, it would be like having a bloody mirror in the room."  
  
"I could shut my eyes, if it helps," I mutter. "Why would I want to see myself kissing that, anyway?"  
  
"Honestly, I don't know why he puts up with you," River snaps. The slight inflection of the word leaves no doubt whom she intended.  
  
 _Her_ thoughts take over. "For the same reason he puts up with you."  
  
"Why would he want a copy when he can have the original?"  
  
"Actually, if you want to be plain, that would be Melody." I emphasize the name. "Seven-year-old Melody, who ran away from an orphanage in Florida and burned in New York."  
  
The cyborg's plastic head spins backward, returning to his human face. "We were told to bring in the woman River Song and anyone who interferes."  
  
"That covers both of them." One of the subordinates points out.  
  
 _Keep them arguing, that's my girl._  
  
Where did that thought come from? River tilts her head slightly, as if listening.  
  
 _No, don't stop._  
  
"What?" I blurt. "Listen, I'm not sure what's going on here, but I demand that you let me go."  
  
"Not likely," the cyborg scoffs. "We are under orders."  
  
"Like I've never heard that before." River wiggles her shoulders; her hands break free.  
  
Great, she'll escape and I'll still be stuck. Again. "Come on, can't you guys find another hobby? I've already checked 'Be captured and interrogated' off my to-do list for today, thank you."  
  
Her ankles and knees are free now too. As soon as they glance away from me, they'll notice.  
  
Then the cyborg crashes to the floor.  
---  
  
 


	8. Breathing Space

  
  
River leaps onto one of the men like a black panther, snogging him on the cheek. _What is she-_ He falls to the ground with a dull thud, plastic rather than flesh. _Right. Her lipstick._  
  
The Doctor springs into view, waving his sonic. "See, all I had to do was adjust the wavelength settings and reverse the quanta-alpha feedback..." A quick pulse leaves the last man staggering backwards.  
  
"Some other time, sweetie. Let's get out of here!" River sticks out her tongue at the man. "He tasted horrible, and I'm not sure how well the lipstick works on cyborgs."  
  
"One moment." He taps the screwdriver again, aiming at my straps. The metallic fabric snaps into jagged pieces. "Come along, Pond."  
  
I pull myself to my feet. "Now what?" The straps have chaffed my wrists red, leaving them raw and rough.  
  
"Back to the TARDIS. " He waves me along. "I've already lost you twice today and I don't feel like tracking you down again. Liz will just have to wait for her report. Not that I have anything to tell her, anyway."  
  
We run down a few more empty hallways before the familiar blue of the TARDIS appears around the corner. He snaps his fingers to opens the door. "Well, ladies. Home sweet home."  
  
"Not yours," River's whisper is so low I wonder how I hear it. "Never yours."  
  
  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"…he told me someone would pay dearly for me. The usual, you know."  
  
"Hmm." His feet glide across the glass floor, barely making a sound. "What do you think, Melody? Anything to add?"  
  
"Huh? What's that." I shake my head. "I don't think…that is to say…I agree. Yes, I agree."  
  
"Melody, you haven't been listening, have you?" He shakes his finger under my nose. "Not listening, that's a bad habit."  
  
"Yes, I have. Every wo _rddd…_ " The diphthong stretches like taffy. "Every word." Now, if I could only remember what they were saying. I only closed my eyes for a minute…maybe longer.  
  
"You're yawning."  
  
"No, I'm not." It's just so warm and quiet, with nobody plotting to kill me…  
  
"Yes, you are. Go get some rest. We can talk later."  
  
"Not in my room." River objects.  
  
"Of course not. I'll have the TARDIS make her a new one." He pops down the stairs, under the glass floor. "Just a quick rerouting, one new connection here and a dimensional link here…ah. That should do the trick. First right, past the library, through the conservatory and the middle hallway, then two lefts and a right, then the third left."  
  
I stumble to my feet, slowly putting one foot in front of the other. The stairs aren't that high, I tell myself, they really aren't. First right. Library. Conservatory. Light filters through green leaves, giving the whole room a drowsy forest hue. The second left, he said. Now, where's the door? Door...door… the wall curves away, blindingly white after the muted greens. A gap in the wall on my left side opens into a small room, maybe 3 by 3 meters. Blue coils like metallic snakes twist through the room, leaving a small section of floor clear.  
  
My eyelids are so heavy. I sink to the floor and lean back against one of the coils. So this is mine…  
  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Melody?"  
  
 **Knife! Where–** ouch! My head hits one of the coils; another bruises my knee. My eyes flash open, fixing on a tweed jacket and maroon bowtie.  
  
"Melody? Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. What are you doing here?"  
  
The Doctor. Why is the Doctor standing in front of me–I quickly run through the past twenty-four hours: capture, near-execution, rescue, threats, capture…I'm on the TARDIS. A soft humming in the back of my mind soothes my nerves. "Sleeping. You said I had a room." What was the proper thing to say in these situations? "It's…nice. A nice room."  
  
"This?" He looked past me. "Ah. Yes. About that…this isn't your room."  
  
"It's not?"  
  
"It's an access hatch for rewiring systems. Why where you sleeping there? I told you where to go." He grins at me. "This means I get to show you your room. Follow me, and try to keep up."  
  
We run down several winding corridors, following some path only he knows. He pauses for a moment in the art gallery. An oil of legendary Cassandra, her eyes fixed on some horrible future, stares down at us with resignation. "Are you alright?" he asks, watching my chest heave with effort.  
  
"Can we just not run for a while?" A half-torn ruffle dangles off the edge of my sleeve. "And where's that wardrobe? I'd like something more…practical to wear."  
  
"After your room. I promise, you're going to love it." He adjusts his bowtie. "Whenever you're ready, River." Then he recognizes what he just said.  
  
He blushes like a strawberry, deep red cheeks and pale skin. His lips try to clamp together, but can't manage a perfectly straight line. "Follow me." The brisk tramp of his feet on the gallery floor sounds like a heartbeat.  
  
Three lefts and two rights later, we stop outside a blue door, hexagonal like the rest of the corridors. An oval panel the size of my hand rests in the middle of the frame, just above the door. He nods for me to touch it. I hold my hand flat, feeling the tingling buzz of a bioscanner.  
  
The door slides open, revealing walls of vivid blue, hues that seemed to swirl and roll like the sea. "It's beautiful." I run my fingers over the wall.  
  
"You think that's impressive, ha!" He ran past me, pointing out elements. "An apple tree from the 31st century! Stained-glass window from the 12th! A Copernican orrery–rubbish model of the universe, actually. Beds of fresh flowers! Bookcase! Genuine imitation Van Gogh, Starry Night. Treehouse without the tree–couldn't quite fit it in otherwise. Beanbag chair, holographic gaming system…"  
  
"A bed, by chance?"  
  
"What is it with beds? Why do people always insist on beds? Anyway, I'm sure the rest of it will turn up. Oh, what's this?" He pauses by a raised fishpond. "A button? Buttons are interesting, they do all sorts of cool stuff, like setting off alarms and explosions."  
  
I'd rather not have my room exploded before I set foot in it.  
  
"Let's see what it does." A rainbow of helium balloons cascades from the ceiling, accompanied by showers of confetti. Settling on shoulders, hair, hands, like ash from an explosion. He grins back at me. "TARDIS must have done that bit, wasn't my idea. She likes you, I think."  
  
"Doctor!" River's voice echoes down the hallway. "Your phone's ringing!"  
  
"Don't answer it, I'll get it, I said don't answer it–"He tears out of the room. "Some people never listen…"  
  
One of the balloons nestles in my hair. I shake my head, trying to make it fall off, but it wafts in the opposite direction. Another one nudges my cheek, bobbing right alongside my nose. I swat it, but it just comes right back.  
  
I turn away, ignoring it, but it comes right back alongside me. I reach up to the bookcase and pull out a slender children's volume with gold-edged pages. Calligraphic letters proclaim _The Velveteen Rabbit_ over a watercolor of a floppy-eared toy. The balloons nestle closer, as if they want to watch.  
  
Why not read until he comes back? I can't find the wardrobe on my own, anyway. I open the book to the first page. " _There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid. He was fat and bunchy, as a rabbit should be; his coat was spotted brown and white, he had real thread whiskers, and his ears were lined with pink satin..._ "   
---


	9. A Garden and a Game

 

  
  
Somebody taps at the door, softly at first, then faster, till it runs into a constant drumbeat. "Melody, are you still there?"  
  
Is something wrong? "What was the call about?"  
  
"Nothing important. How the Aplan Phenelogical Society got my number I'll never know, and I don't go in for that sort of rubbish. Even more rubbish than usual in their case; I mean, what if one reading conflicts with the others head–listen, would you mind letting me in? I don't mind shouting, but it doesn't feel very polite."  
  
"It's your TARDIS," I point out.  
  
"Yes, but it's generally considered polite to ask."  
  
"Oh. Come in, then."  
  
The door slides open, and he bounces in. "So, what do you think? Like it?"  
  
"It's very…different." The orphanage in Florida was empty–at least the parts I remember–some parts of my life are written in pencil, blurred into a grey smudge. Then the years of scavenging on the streets, running from something I can't remember…"I like it."  
  
"Good. But I was wondering, that is to say–is there somewhere you would like me to drop you off? Not that I'm running some sort of interstellar Tube line, but I'm always giving River a lift back to Storm-er, lifts places."  
  
I recognize a hint when I hear one. "Well, I suppose–if you want me to go–" I shift from one foot to the other. "But if it's all the same…I don't have anything particular to do now, and …."  
  
"If you'd rather stay, that's fine too. Enjoy the room, have a few adventures." He grins at me. "After all, this way I can keep an eye on you, instead of always running off to answer messages."  
  
That's fine? I must have gotten something in my eye–I'm blinking very hard to clear my vision. "I can stay?"  
  
"As long as you want. I was thinking of a nice trip to Florana. Beautiful gardens, haven't been there in ages. What do you say?"  
  
"Can you promise I won't be mistaken for someone else and captured? I've already filled my quota for the next week." I scratch the back of my palm where the nanorecorder was implanted. Thirty–no, twenty-nine- sleep cycles before the next report is due.  
  
"Perfectly peaceful planet, no problems unless you're allergic to flowers."  
  
I've been there before, but why not? "Just give me a moment to change. This dress has seen better days."  
  
"What on earth possessed you to wear that?" River sniffs as I walk into the room.  
  
I tug down the red velvet sleeves, covering the ruffled blouse. Black slacks tuck into hiking boots. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to ruin another dress."  
  
"Try a tracksuit–at least it would match." She still wears the black jumpsuit, but sans ears, mask and tail.  
  
The Doctor pulls a lever on the console. "Florana, one of the 600 wonders of the universe?"  
  
"I always thought seven was plenty. I was hoping for a stop at the Pyramids of Egypt one of these days."  
  
"Dusty old tombs? No, deadly boring, even if Osiris is taken care of. But living flowers, that's the ticket." The TARDIS shakes to a stop, and he opens the door.  
  
River waves him off. "I'll catch up, there's some things I need to do first."  
  
"Well, I'm coming." I push past her. "It would be a nice change from all the running. "  
  
"If you want to go swimming, I'd recommend a different outfit, or at least a towel. Always know where your towel is, that's what my friend Arthur used to say. The seas of Florana are like warm milk, wonderful swimming conditions."  
  
"I think I'll pass this time." As we walk along, I bend over to smell as purple blossom with a white centre. The scent of tea fills my nostrils. "Beautiful."  
  
"The lake's this way." He glances left and right. "Or is it this way? No, it can't be, we came from this way."  
  
A splotch of pink a few metres off the path catches my eye. I walk over and spy white blossoms with pink petals curling underneath, like a feur-du-lance. Yellow pollen sprinkles the white staman as the blossom bobs in the wind. Nearby, a hummingbird hovers over another blossom, sipping through its long bill.  
  
"Shh, shh," I whisper, but the bird shoots backwards, disappearing into the undergrowth. Leaves filter the sunlight green; tiny daisies poke through the grass, each no larger than my fingernail. I plop down, rolling to my side for a closer look. In the distance, the Doctor babbles on, a faint hum in my ears. I mustn't fall asleep. I didn't last time. Of course, last time I was being chased by a squadron of Judoon on charges of trespassing in the Hyperbolical Archives.  
  
"Melody, are you coming?" he hollers.  
  
"Just a minute." I stand up, brushing off the velvet frock. "I'd forgotten how beautiful this place is."  
  
"You've been before?"  
  
"I was a very brief visit." I try to distract him. "You said there was a lake?"  
  
"Oh, you'll love it. I took Sarah Jane there once. Well, I tried to. We landed in Antarctica instead."  
  
"Antarctica? Has your steering gotten better since then?"  
  
"It was all the TARDIS's fault, really. She thinks she knows best. Most of the time she's right–but there are times I wonder. San Francisco, 1999, for example…." he lowers his voice. "Don't tell her I said that. I'm sure she and River already have secrets from me."  
  
"Her? Wait, who are we talking about?"  
  
"The TARDIS. You said you can hear her."  
  
"I just…I assumed it was her." There have been strange stories associated with his TARDIS.  
  
"I should give you lessons sometime, could be useful in an emergency."  
  
I nearly trip over a log. "Lessons in what?"  
  
"Telepathy. Can't imagine you've had much training, but the potential's still there." We crest a hill, revealing a gleaming white shape in the distance. "There we are! I'll race you. On your mark, get set–" he takes off.  
  
"Not fair," I exclaim, speeding after him. I should be able to pass him, if not keep up.  
---  
  
 


	10. Kaleck and (tee-hee) Catoowent

  
  


  
  
How could I lose track of him? There's only one path. For such a skinny man, he runs very fast. Maybe that's why he's so skinny. No, focus! I skid to a halt, dust rising behind me like smoke. Think, Melody. You can think, that's one of the things you can do well. That quick-fluttering Time Lord mind, joined with just enough humanity to state the obvious sometimes.  
  
We were going to the lake. The most logical course of action would be continuing to the lake. Or going back to the TARDIS, but he wouldn't know if I did that. I could tell River, but she might not be there. It all depended on how long it took her to finish…whatever she was doing.  
  
I'll head to the lake, then. He'll already be there, trousers rolled up and jacket draped over a lilac bush, and laughing that it took me so long. I calculate the most direct course of travel and head forty-three point five degrees east through the underbrush. After ten minutes, my jacket is patterned with elephant's-ear leaves and yellow thistles; white burrs cling to my boots.  
  
"This isn't the right way."  
  
 _Knife!-_ Right, no knife. It's back in the TARDIS somewhere. I force myself to breath calmly, relaxing muscles just enough to be ready for anything.  
  
"Up here," the voice calls. The owner might have stepped out of one of my old picture books, Rumplestiltskin or the troll under the Billy Goats Gruff's bridge–skin like a walnut, eyes like watermelon seeds. If he swung down from the branch he's sitting on, his head would barely reach my waist.  
  
"How do you know it's the wrong way? You don't even know where I'm going."  
  
"Because…cho-hoo, you'll never get out through these woods."  
  
"I think I can manage, thank you." The way I came is rather difficult, but I think if I go north-by-northwest for two miles, I should come out by the lake. A bit longer, but there's some sort of path in that direction.  
  
"Hu-ha," he laughs. "You don't know, do you?"  
  
"Know what? And who are you, anyway?"  
  
"Call me, who-wee, call me Kaleck. I serve the great Enchanter."  
  
"What enchanter?" There wasn't an enchanter on Florona last time I visited. In fact, I don't think it had any government at all.  
  
"Cygnietain." Kaleck jumps from his branch to another one inches above my head. "And he has sent me–tee-hee–to meet you."  
  
"First of all, could you stop laughing? It's really very annoying." I fight the urge to stick out my tongue at him.  
  
He shakes his head. "No. Now come along, he's —hu-wuh–very anxious to meet you."  
  
"I have other things to do. My friend is waiting for me, and the longer he waits the more haughty he gets." Well, not haughty, exactly, more like-"Smug," I amend.  
  
"It won't take long–to-we-, not long at all. Follow me."  
  
"You can tell this Cygnet,"  
  
"Cygnietain," he corrects me.  
  
"You can tell him that I'm not very interested in visiting at present. It's my day off, actually, and I think I've earned it." I pluck a leaf off my waistcoat, only to find Kaleck grabbing my wrist.  
  
"No, no…you must come."  
  
"Fine."  
  
  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
The main problem with following Kaleck was that he could not remember that I am almost twice his height and cannot duck under overhanging branches nor squeeze between bushes. The only reason I didn't lose track of him is that I walk one step for every three or four of his. At least it's over now. Ten minutes ago, we found a path leading between two stone walls, like an old-fashioned alley, which led to a solid oak door.  
  
"Well, open it."  
  
He knocks twice, calling out "Kaleck and Catoowent."  
  
"Who is master of this world?" Someone calls from inside.  
  
"Cygnietain shall be seen by all," he replies.  
  
The door swings open, but I see no one who opens it. This is definitely not Florana. Florana has no castles–nor any automatic doors, for that matter. "So, where are we now?"  
  
"Cygnietain's headquarters." Karleck turns his head back to look at me. "Come along now, cho-hee. No time from questions, catoowent."  
  
"My name is Melody Pond. What's a catoowent?" I glance down the hallway, unable to see anything except shadows.  
  
"You are, ko-lee. Everyone who visits him is a catoowent."  
  
The TARDIS should have translated the word. Maybe it's just being exasperating today. I shrug and follow him down the hallway  
  
  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Light! I blink rapidly, adjusting to the light streaming in from windows high above my head. Granite walls lined with tapestries mark off a room roughly the size of a football field. At one end of a scarlet carpet sits a green-robed man on a throne. "Greetings, Melody Pond."  
  
 _Christmas,_ I think for a fraction of a second, before catching myself. "Greetings, Cygnietain."  
  
"Call me Cyng, everyone does." He pronounces it sing, with a hint of an 'uh' after the initial consonant. "Cyng and Melody…it has a rhythm to it, doesn't it?"  
  
"I suppose so. Why did you bring me here?"  
  
"Because, Melody, I have a task that needs to be done. And I think you are an excellent choice."  
  
"Find someone else. My friends are waiting for me. "  
  
"They'll have their own roles to play."  
  
"Well, what is it?"  
---  
  
 


End file.
